


Skirting the Issue

by Onecelestialbeing



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Female Ejaculation, Gen, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:57:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3275801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onecelestialbeing/pseuds/Onecelestialbeing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the 2014 livejournal kinkfest. </p><p>The skirt was so enormous he could hide under it with none the wiser. Except her. Is she good at keeping a straight face? If not, perhaps another costume would have been the better choice for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skirting the Issue

Pansy Parkinson still had no idea how the hell she'd ended up dating Ronald Weasley. He was her complete opposite in nearly every way. Ron was tall—even taller compared to his days at Hogwarts— gangly, freckled beyond belief, and had a head full of shocking red hair that told on him long before he could walk up on you. Pansy was short, so short that her idiot boyfriend often joked about having to bend his knees to kiss her; every inch of her was milky white, although her once short black hair had been grown out into a longer length that much better suited her face, in spite of what her mother claimed.  
Then there was the issue of upbringing. Although they were both pure-blooded, their households were vastly different from one another's, and while her first visit to the Burrow left her disconcerted, Pansy had been secretly envious of his family's warm dispositions. Despite her being the only child, her parents at times seemed to forget that they in fact had a daughter.

Pansy and Ron did, however, share some similar interests; both liked Wizard's Chess, Quidditch (although Pansy teased her boyfriend relentlessly when he claimed that the Cannons were going to finish first). It also didn't hurt that Ron was a damned good kisser, and even better with his hands. She had no idea if big hands and feet helped when he was keeper for Gryffindor, but it definitely didn't hurt things when she briefly discovered in the middle of a hot and heavy snogging session, that his large limbs were directly proportioned to other parts of his body. And while Ron wasn't the first boy Pansy had fooled around with, he was definitely the only one to make her brain feel as though it were leaking from her ears when he'd first slipped his hand into her knickers.

According to her beau, he was much enamoured with every inch of her, but when his fingers strayed between her thighs, it was her clitoris that received plenty of attention. Pansy's first two boyfriends likely had no idea what a clitoris was or its function, but Ron seemed to know what to do with one. She had been tempted to ask if he'd been schooled by his bushy-haired, bookish best friend, Granger, but that question quickly flew out the window when he put two fingers into his mouth, leaving them well slicked with his saliva before dragging them over the sensitive bud. The two had been stretched across the ornate sofa in the sitting room of her family home, and there was a split second of Pansy thanking her lucky stars that her parents were out for the evening, and that there were no portraits hung about. The orgasm she experienced, managed to reduce her to a writhing, shrieking pile of witch who would have tumbled to the floor had it not been for Ron quickly grabbing her.

Unfortunately, things never travelled beyond kissing and touching. For all their hasty encounters that either took place when Pansy's parents were out, or in a rare empty room in the Burrow, the opportunity to fully get carried away had yet to present itself. The Burrow was always teeming with other members of the Weasley family, and as for the Parkinson residence, Pansy's mother clung to the idea that her 'little girl' had no idea about sex. The latter idea was laughable, considering the many naughty books that she'd outright pilfered from the older woman over the years. There was also the fact that her parents were almost always around, and when Pansy did have the house to herself, Ron had been working. Be that as it may, both refused to have sex in their parents' house, Ron stating that his mum would lose her wig and Pansy knowing that her mother would die, promptly come back to life to chastise her daughter and her boyfriend for having sex on her three-thousand Galleons sofa, then die again.

The bright side to things was that Ron had recently moved out of the Burrow, much to his mother's consternation. Mrs. Weasley fussed about her youngest son being all on his own, while his father was more supportive. Too bad every free moment was then devoted to fixing up the flat and moving what seemed like an endless number of boxes into the place. Ron's friends helped whenever they had a spare moment, and a couple times Fred and George offered assistance, although their idea of help was to idle about and joke around until Ron grew red in the face and told them off. Pansy didn't blame Ron, but the urge to not throw all caution to the wind and make love in whatever place they found at the moment was becoming harder to resist, and she was thrilled by the prospect of the two soon having complete privacy.  
Just as everything seemed to be falling into place, Draco Malfoy invited them to a costume party on what would have been her and Ron's first weekend alone.

"Do we have to go?" Ron grumbled from behind a stack of boxes when Pansy thrust the ornate invitation beneath his nose. "This place is a mess; how the bloody hell am I supposed to find anything, much less put together a costume?"

"You've got a wand, surely you can figure something out," Pansy replied, even though she was somewhat miffed by the idea of having to come up with a costume. "And yes, we have to go. Draco's always come to those stupid parties my parents threw and if not for him I would have hung myself from the chandelier to escape the monotony."

"So now I'm doing Malfoy a favour. Was that supposed to convince me?"

"He's my friend, and a few hours won't kill you. Besides, the food is good, well, most of it."

Ron grunted under his breath, which Pansy knew meant that he had grudgingly accepted the invitation.

The next Saturday evening, Pansy deeply regretted telling Draco that she and Ron would attend his parents' party. It had taken forever to do her hair, even with the use of magic. Hairpins stabbed her scalp no matter which way she arranged them. The corset binding her middle half left her hot and uncomfortable, and Pansy regretted picking out this stupid costume. Was there a time when women really dressed like this? This amount of petticoats and crinolines seemed highly impractical. At least a well-cast charm held the entire lacy affair completely away from her body, and air swished about beneath the voluminous skirt whenever she moved.

For all Ron's fuss about finding a costume, his was ridiculously cool. The rental shop they'd gone to had a Steampunk outfit with all the coordinating accoutrement, and his eyes had practically glazed over upon seeing the hat and over-sized goggles. Furthermore, at least his outfit was comfortable, and Pansy wanted to smack him in the head for lazily sauntering down the steps, and then for the comment that recklessly came from his mouth.

"Blimey, I could probably hide beneath that thing."

"An entire Quidditch team could probably fit beneath this damned thing," Pansy snapped, wincing when she felt the laces of her corset beginning to pinch. "I don't know if I'll be able to make it through this entire party. So long as Draco sees our faces, we can leave early and he'll never know that we've gone."

"Or we could not go at all," Ron suggested cautiously, causing his girlfriend to throw him a scathing look. "No, you're right, a promise is a promise. Besides, I want to show off my cost—" He trailed off upon seeing Pansy's face. "Erm, never mind."

By the time they arrived at Malfoy Manor, Pansy wished that she had taken Ron's advice. She was used to these kinds of parties; of course, they hadn't been costume parties but mostly held the same charm. For this sort of affair everyone got primped up, puffed up, and adopted a lofty manner as they swished from one of the room to the next, politely declining gratuitous offers of Champagne, wine, and hors d'oeuvres. Well, the ladies mostly declined, skimming their hands along their narrow waists, only to stuff their faces when they thought no one was looking.

Pansy was in no mood to eat. She'd promptly found a table and stationed herself there, watching the partygoers and silently cursed the uncomfortable shoes she'd chosen for that evening. Ron was, as expected, not shy about standing near the canapés table; Pansy watched as he sampled everything set out, sometimes making faces when he tasted something he didn't like. One time she swore his lips held the shape of 'What the fuck?' before abandoning the half-masticated food into a linen napkin none-too-discreetly.

"Never thought I'd see you with a Weasley," an unpleasantly familiar voice suddenly chortled, drawing her attention forward. Pansy looked up to see Gregory Goyle standing before her, dressed ironically and moronically as a vicar, and shovelling food into his mouth at a steady pace.

"Never thought I'd see you with a date," Pansy shot back, peering behind him. "Oh wait a minute, that's right, you're not with a date. Not unless you count Crabbe."

At that moment, Crabbe appeared at Goyle's side, dressed like a nun and looking quite daft. He also held onto a plate of food—a platter, actually, and it looked as though he'd nicked an entire silver tray from the table.

Pansy already felt hot and irritated in her itchy dress, but the sight of her two annoying, former classmates becoming embarrassed at being put into place made her snort uncontrollably. "I guess some things never change," she sniggered, still laughing as the two skulked off.

"Should I ask?" asked Ron, sitting down and pressing a Champagne flute into her hand. "I noticed arseholes one and two coming over here."

"I don't think they'll be coming back," Pansy retorted, watching both young men cross the room to press their backs against a wall, frowning into their respective platters of food.

"Hmm. Y'know, I'll give it to Malfoy's parents—they can put out a spread. Except for that meat thing with the leaves, I don't know what the hell that was but I don't want to put something like that into my mouth ever again."

"I saw you swear and wondered what you had eaten. I hate that thing; Mrs. Malfoy serves it every year. Mum tried to make me eat it when I was six, and Draco's mother tried to make him eat it too. We ended up hiding our plates beneath the rose bushes in the garden."

The two laughed before falling into a comfortable silence. They continued watching everyone moving about in the ballroom and Ron slipped his hand into Pansy's lap, weaving his fingers through hers.

"So... flat's nearly ready. Think you'll want to come back home with me tonight?"

"I've only been asking for a month. What do you think?"

A slow smile spread across Ron's face and he tickled her palm with one fingertip.

"I wasn't purposely keeping you away, Pansy, I just...I just wanted to make sure things looked OK before you came over, that's all..."

"'Looked OK'? Since when have I become a judge on interior decor?"

"Fair point, but I had to wait for my new bed to be delivered, if you must know. There was no way in hell I would take my old one, not unless you fancied sleeping with half your arse hanging over the mattress."

"Well since you put it that way..."

"Believe me, I do. In fact, you were on my mind during my entire search for a new bed. So now all that's left to do is us christening it. If you only knew the things I plan to do to you..."

Ron trailed off with a devilish smirk, every naughty thought clearly conveyed in his blue eyes.

"Oh, shut up," Pansy squealed, embarrassed that Ron was making her blush, yet loving it all the same.

"I mean it. I want to taste every part of you," he continued in a lowered, husky voice. "I plan on hearing all manner of filth coming from your mouth, making you scream so loudly that you forget your name."

Pansy swallowed hard as a warm flush spread over her.

"Fucking hell, I can picture you kneeling over my face and grabbing onto my bed," Ron continued, leaning in closer and brushing his lips against her neck, causing Pansy to inhale sharply, "our bed, riding my tongue till you can't take it anymore."

"Oh, damn, I hate you," Pansy hissed, rubbing her thighs together to try and quell the sudden ache between them. "Now that's all I'm going to be thinking about and we have three more hours of this damned party to suffer through."

"I can help you for now," Ron assured, removing his top hat and setting it next to Pansy's empty flute. Before she could protest, the cheekily grinning young man slid down to the floor and slipped beneath her voluminous dress.

"Ron!" Pansy fussed, slapping at the top of her dress only to meet with lace and thin air. Really? How big was this damned thing? "Ronald Weasley, get from under there!"

"Blimey, have you been talking to Hermione?" came his muffled voice. "Only she and my mum call me that whenever they're stroppy."

"Ron! I mean it, get out! Someone might see you—"

To her intense horror, Draco Malfoy saw fit to swagger over in her direction that very moment, gracefully falling into the seat Ron had just abandoned.

"Hey, Pansy. Thanks for showing up and not forcing me to suffer through this thing on my own. I don't know why Mother insists on this stupid Hallowe'en ball every year."

Draco sniffed, looking over in the direction of his parents. Mrs. Malfoy looked like the belle of the ball, smiling and gliding from guest to guest with Mr. Malfoy at her side, who donned a black and gold waistcoat that coordinated with his wife's dress. It was obvious that his attention was lacking, and Narcissa discreetly pinched her husband's thigh when he barely acknowledge the couple speaking to them. 

"Your father looks thrilled, Draco, like he can hardly contain himself for all this excitement. Where is your costume, by the way?"

Draco was dressed in a Muggle tuxedo, which would have looked nearly the same as a wizarding outfit had he been wearing robes over it. The blond then withdrew his wand and with a broad flourish, caused an ornate mask to conceal half his face.

"There: costume. Happy?"

"Ecstatic." Pansy rolled her eyes. "I smelled Crabbe and Goyle not long ago, why the hell were they invited? I thought you'd stopped speaking to them."

"That was mostly Father's doing, ever the diplomat," Draco replied, snorting. "And where's Weaselbe? I thought you said you were bringing him."

Pansy hadn't forgotten that Ron was still concealed beneath her skirts, and at mention of 'Weaslebe', she felt Ron's lips moving against her leg.

"He's...around," Pansy uttered, inhaling softly when her boyfriend's hand began smoothing over her knee.

"Most likely somewhere eating something," Draco averred, looking across the ballroom. 

Pansy let out a harsh laugh; if Draco only knew how close to the marks his words were.

The two went on making small talk, although it was hard to focus on Draco's words while a finger continued brushing against the seam of her knickers. Up and down the finger travelled, pausing to trace whisper-light circles agonisingly close to her clitoris. It wasn't hardly enough to make her come, yet just enough to leave her on the edge of needing more. Pansy bit the inside of her cheek and shifted uncomfortably in her seat as her underwear grew heavy, clinging to her.

"Are you all right?" asked Draco, peering at her curiously.

Just as Pansy struggled to come up with an answer, two hands were pushed her thighs apart and there was the feel of broad shoulders fitting in between them. A furtive glance down ensured that her costume concealed it all, and she fought to keep her face straight while staring at her friend.

"Yes. Why do you ask? Because I'm not hanging onto your every word like I did back in school?"

"No, because your face is getting red."

"Of course it is, this dress is bloody hot! Can't you see me melting away into a puddle of death?"

"Keep your hair on, Pansy," Draco grumbled, frowning as he summoned over a server who was dressed in a white jacket and gloves, carrying a tray of chilled drinks. "Here," he continued, thrusting a frosted glass into her direction. "Don't say I never gave you anything."

"Such generosity." Pansy rolled her eyes but she took a large mouthful of the cold liquid without bothering to see what it was Draco had given her. At that same time, Ron used his wand—Pansy had no idea what else would feel that long, smooth, or thin against her hip—and severed the sides of her knickers.  
 _I'm going to strangle him, this was my favourite pair!_ Pansy mentally raged. She then let out a yelp and nearly dropped her glass when, unexpectedly, one thick finger was pushed inside her to knuckle, then dragged back out with deliberate slowness.

Draco gave her another baffled look but went on talking when she dismissively waved a hand. Pansy did her best to keep her breathing steady, while at the same time trying to keep from shouting outright. Ron knew just how she liked to be touched and used every opportunity possible to coax her into coming in his hand. Usually she would have been acquiescent to being touched, but the last thing Pansy wanted to do was lose herself in the throes of climax while staring someone else in the face, especially the likes of Draco Malfoy. However, if her boyfriend kept up his work beneath her skirt, Draco was going to get more than he anticipated.

"What now?" he demanded when Pansy gasped, her eyes going wide.

Ron had fitted more of himself between her legs and his shoulder-length hair tickled the insides of her thighs. The feel of hot air washing over her made Pansy suck in air, and when she realised his full lips were touching her nether lips, her fingers gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white.

"Mmm—nothing!"

Pansy thanked whatever lucky star was responsible for that moment; just as the indisputable feel of Ron's tongue methodically left a warm stripe up the length of her cleft, a pretty witch with an ample bosom and low-cut dress sauntered past the table, causing Draco to nearly break his neck.

"Good God, the tits on her..." he mumbled under his breath, looking obvious as a twelve-year-old boy as he gawked in her direction. "OK, Parkinson," Draco spat when he swung his head back around and saw his friend breathing heavily and clinging to the edge of the table with both bands. "Judging by the look on your face, you're either becoming ill or your ginger boyfriend is beneath your skirts and giving you a little slap and tickle. Either way, if you're going to expel any sort of bodily fluids I would appreciate if you would do so in another room— _not_ my room, mind you—and definitely not in front of me!"  
"Shut up, Draco!" Pansy nearly roared, her face growing red from embarrassment as Draco was partly and unknowingly right, but mostly because Ron had separated her lips and pushed what felt like his entire tongue into her quivering entrance.

For all their fooling around, Pansy and Ron never experimented with oral sex. Most of their alone time had consisted of kissing and touching, usually Ron touching her and Pansy becoming so worked up, coming so hard that all she wanted afterwards was a nap. A couple times Ron tried to replace his fingers with his tongue, but the idea made Pansy so shy and uncertain that she'd repeatedly refused to let him.  
"One day you'll let me lick this pretty pussy of yours," he'd chuckled into the side of her neck before his lips latched onto the delicate skin.  
Being on the receiving end of oral was something that Pansy had absolutely no experience with. In the beginning of her burgeoning sex life, she had been curious about it, but boys behaved as though going down on a girl was distasteful. Of course they were on the opposite end of the spectrum when it came to receiving a blowjob, and Pansy wouldn't have minded giving one, but if they were going to be selfish then so would she. Ron was definitely more of a giver and Pansy was extremely amenable when confronted with this new attitude. However, for some inexplicable reason she was unable to let him give her the most intimate of kisses and clammed up whenever he suggested it. 

But now? She was seriously contemplating going back on her words.

"You know what? I think I'll leave you alone to handle...whatever it is you're going through," said Draco, bristling from Pansy's wavering attention as he rose from the table.

"Right, Draco. The only thing you're going to do is slither your way into that girl's lap," she managed to shoot back as turned to walk away. "You could barely keep your tongue in your mouth when she passed by!"  
At the mention of 'tongue', Ron deliberately scraped his along the underside of Pansy's clitoris, causing her legs to jerk and the tail end of her sentence to trail off in a garbled choke. Draco pulled a face and having run out of patience, gracefully hightailed it in the other direction.

Pansy muttered an expletive under her breath and smacked her head against the back of the chair, banging it a few times. Ron was still at it beneath her dress, alternating between finger and tongue to tickle her entrance. The pad of his thumb (it felt like his thumb) grazed the protective hood covering her clit, and the maddeningly light stimulation felt like the worse form of torture. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, but most of all, she wanted to come.

A shudder ripped through Pansy from head to toe when she decided that she'd had enough. If she allowed Ron to continue, every prim and proper party-goer would soon become witness to her in the throes of ecstasy, giving them fresh gossip fodder for a full year.

"I'm going to kill you!" Pansy hissed, roughly patting the many folds of her dress, locating the top of Ron's head and slapping it. "Hurry up and get from under there before someone sees you!"  
Carefully peeking out from beneath Pansy's skirts and finding that he was safe, Ron slid out and slipped into the seat next to her. He held up two fingers, scissoring them open and causing a line of clear, gooey liquid to stretch between them. The devilish wizard then licked his fingertips, not appearing remotely abashed as Pansy glowered at him. Still grinning madly, Ron ran his tongue over his lips suggestively and grinned wider when his girlfriend's jaw dropped open.

"I already knew you tasted good, but tasting you on my fingers is nothing in comparison to getting it straight from the tap."

"What is wrong with you! What if someone noticed?"

"No idea how they'd do that. Couldn't see a blessed thing beneath all that business under your skirt," Ron mused. "Although it's less hot under there than I would've imagined. What did you do, cast a charm or something?"

"What?" Pansy was flustered and it took her a second to focus on the question. "Yes, but I didn't do it for you to...play kinky little games! And what the hell did you do with my knickers?"  
Ron righted his top hat on his head and set it at a jaunty angle.

"They're in my pocket," he replied, patting his jacket. "And your mouth might object to my kinky little games, but your pussy says 'give me more'. Two seconds after tasting her I nearly drowned in her juices. I don't think you've ever got that wet so quickly."

Pansy covered her face with both hands and let out a little scream. Another thought swiftly occurred to her and she abruptly stood up, steadying herself against the table before fussing for Ron to move.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked as Pansy impatiently yanked him out the ballroom, tugging his wrist to lead him throughout the large manor.

"Guest room, rather, one of them."

There was a brief silence, save for their footsteps tapping along the marble floors.

"Oh. How d'you know your way around here?"

Ron's tone was suspicious and Pansy heaved a sigh.

"Because I've only been coming here since I was five. And don't worry, we already have Draco's blessing so long as we don't shag in his bedroom."

Once they finally procured a room and locked the door, Pansy paused near a sofa situated across from the hearth.

"I really need to take off this stupid thing," she grumbled, plucking at her unwieldy outfit.

"Wait a minute," Ron interrupted, placing his hands on Pansy's hips and guiding her to sit down. "Let's not be hasty, I was enjoying my time beneath your skirt."  
Pansy rolled her eyes but sank down as with as much poise as she could manage, allowing Ron to arrange the ridiculous hoop that kept her dressed puffed out.

"Great," she muttered as her back touched the sofa, causing her to land a face full of taffeta and lace. "Now I can't see anything."

Pansy knew that the sight of her was comical. The bottom of her dress was ballooned out, leaving the lower half of her body completely exposed, and looking over the top of her skirt was impossible.  
"You might not be able to see anything, but I can see everything," she heard Ron reply from the other side of her dress. Judging by the sound of his voice he was kneeling down, and her suspicions were confirmed when his hands slid up her legs. "Bloody hell, I hope you wear these again," he murmured of her silk thigh high stockings. "I had no idea I liked this sort of thing until now."

"I'll buy you a pair if you like them so much."

Ron chuckled as he paused to remove her heels, briefly digging his thumbs into her sore arches and causing Pansy to sigh in relief as he massaged away the ache. Once he was done he draped her right leg over his shoulder, pushing the left to rest over the rolled arm of the chair.

"If you really want me to stop," he began, tugging down Pansy's dress and poking his head over the top, "I will. But I plan on you telling me not to stop, so..."

"You cocky little prat," Pansy snapped, thumping his back with her heel. "You're lucky I'm letting you do this in the first place."

"That's rich!" Ron chortled as he disappeared again behind her skirt.

Between the drink she'd had earlier and no longer worried about being watched, Pansy was able to relax and melted into the plush leather sofa. That vulnerable feeling that came with being so exposed still lingered, but Pansy conceded that Ron's soft lips pressing kisses to the inside of her stockinged knee was nice. The sensation of his face moving higher and nuzzling against her centre was more than nice, but the feel of his hot, wet tongue burrowing once more into her opening shot more little arrows of pleasure all over her body. Now that they were alone, Pansy was able to focus on every bit of the occurrence between her legs, and found that Ron hadn't been lying—she didn't want him to stop.

Ron used the tip of his tongue to tickle the left, then the right of her sensitive bud. That touch was suspiciously light and Pansy found herself grinding into his face, wordlessly demanding more. Every wet lick, no matter where he touched, make her hole clench. Little gasps and pants escaped her mouth but when Ron's lips fastened around her clit, tugging on it with gentle pressure, the rolling of her hips was accompanied by a long, deep moan. It was almost shameful how wet she was; each time he moved his fingers over her, the sound of her slick flesh reached her ears, yet Pansy found that she did not care one bit.  
At that moment, Pansy realised that she'd been an idiot to not let Ron go down on her. Not that she still didn't feel somewhat bashful about it, but all of her worries were effectively obliterated as her boyfriend silently proved his prowess, all with a few strokes of his hands and mouth.

"Oh...fuck!" she hissed underneath her breath, unaware that she was massaging her breasts through the bodice of her dress. It took some time but eventually she freed one tit and rubbed her erect nipple between both fingers until it ached. "Oh fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , that feels _so_ good," Pansy groaned, barely aware of her utterances when Ron's tongue moved against her in one long, slow swipe from hole to clit.  
Back and forth Ron went until his entire face was coated with her juices. Just as a loud keen of pleasure was on the verge of spilling from her lips, Pansy was unceremoniously flipped over and made to kneel on all fours with her thighs splayed.

"What are you—!" she began, shocked, only for Ron to resituate the large hoop of her dress.

"You ask too many questions," he replied, placing both hands palm down on her arsecheeks and spreading them.

Pansy struggled to come up with a reply, but it was hard to think when it felt as though Ron had shoved his entire face inside her. Her bottom lip was in serious danger of being bitten through, but when she was no longer able to remain silent, each escaped moan was nearly in tandem with every thrust of her boyfriend's tongue. Her nails dug further into the armchair while her lower half pushed back to keep Ron's tongue in place, and she nearly screamed when a thumb tickled the outside of her entrance as her entire clitoris was sucked on like a cherry drop.

Her orgasm was slow to come, like the tide swelling and washing in from sea, but once it crashed down over her, Pansy was barely cognisant of the ear-splitting screech that rebounded around the room. Her thighs quivered for long minutes and it took a while before the cries in her throat faded to a ragged whimper. Only after collapsing into a heap on the armchair did she feel a tear trickling down her face.

"You OK?" Ron asked from behind her. Pansy felt the armchair dip as he moved to kneel next to her, his large hand smoothing over her lower back.

"'OK' isn't a word that exactly comes to mind," she panted, biting her lip as another aftershock rippled through her. 

"Bloody hell, I never realised how perfect your arse is," Ron commented, his fingers kneading and massaging her clenched behind. "It's actually shaped like a heart."

"Yeah? I never noticed," Pansy replied, voice muffled from her lips being pressed against a cushion.

The sensation of a long, thick finger suddenly tickling the outside of her puffy labia made her body jerk, and then that finger eased its way into her tight, clasping tunnel, pressing into some spot that made her eyes cross.

_"Oh...Ron!"_

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Stop and I'll hex off your bollocks!"

Back and forth the finger continued moving, sinking deeper and wriggling in a way that left Pansy quickly dazed. Her fingers were still firmly embedded into the sofa, but when Ron introduced a second digit alongside the first, Pansy's nails unwittingly left claw marks that the Malfoys would hopefully remain ignorant to.

The insides of Pansy's thighs tensed and shook. It was hard holding herself in such a rigid position, not when her body was threatening to go completely limp at the same time. But to move meant the possibility of ruining the too-perfect pace of Ron's hands, and it felt as though she would die if he were to stop.

Higher and higher Pansy climbed towards another release, thrusting her hips back as another round of moans and cries filled the room. Coming was the only thing she cared about, even if it felt like she was seconds away from wetting herself. It still wasn't enough to ask her boyfriend to stop, and it was just as well, because Ron slightly shifted his wrist, pumping his well-soaked digits into her at a new angle. The pair of blunt fingertips moved with vigour, and Pansy's eyes watered seconds before she exploded with a gush that left her thighs, Ron's forearm, his trousers, and the sofa completely soaked.  
After that intense release, some small part of Pansy's mind suggested finding a new—and dry—place to rest on. But the larger, more wicked part of her senses craved more.  
At times, Pansy found that her boyfriend could be completely daft. On the flip side, he was prone to shocking her when his keen sense of intuition reared its ginger head. Right now, she was thankful for his sixth sense that let him know she was far from being done.

Pansy wanted to cry out in frustration when Ron pulled his fingers from her body, but then his hot mouth descended back upon her, and she left out a long, choked sob. Every lick, every swipe of his tongue against her highly sensitised flesh left her shuddering, and the sofa soon sported more claw marks.

Ron licked and sucked every inch of his girlfriend's tender, swollen flesh, his hands clamped around her hips whilst pulling her further against his face. Pansy didn't see how she could come again within a matter of minutes, but sure enough the salacious tingling of another impending orgasm began creeping along her spine. That release was stronger than the first and second, and so intense that she squirted again, despite not having the help of Ron's fingers.

It seemed ridiculous that her arousal should peak from Ron moaning appreciatively into her flesh. He lapped at every drop of Pansy's flowing juices, rubbing his entire face into her quim and coaxing her to give him more. By now her cunt pulsed and squeezed on its own, as if listening to her boyfriend instead of her, and more clear fluid rushed out and fell upon Ron's awaiting tongue, each spurt accompanied by a shout on Pansy's behalf. Ron spent another five minutes tongue-fucking her, using the very tip of his thumb against her arsehole whenever his lips strayed down to her clit.

Voice and body worn out, unable to take any more, Pansy finally wriggled away, gasping for air and pleading for a moment to rest. She collapsed onto her back and covered her face with both arms, licking her dry lips with a dryer tongue.

"Oh....my....god..." she croaked as her eyes came back into focus. "Oh....Gods! why is this dress so bloody _hot!"_

"You're hot and I'm wet," Ron chuckled, leaning over and assisting in the removal of the cumbersome garment.

"You're wet," Pansy murmured weakly as her boyfriend fiddled with the laces on her back. "Sorry about that."

Ron was more than wet—he was soaked. The front of his shirt, his hands, even his hair, which was now a darker shade of red, looked as though he'd stood beneath a torrential downpour.  
"Don't be sorry. I don't think I've ever been so bloody turned on before. See?"

Pansy pressed her hand to the front of Ron's trousers, feeling the unmistakeable shape of a thick, rock hard erection.

That was enough for the two to finish hastily undressing one another. After finding a marginally dry spot, the two engaged in a liplock that left one another breathless.

"Please tell me you're on some sort of potion," Ron groaned, sucking hard on the dampened curve of Pansy's neck.

"Of course I am, you knob," she retorted, crying out when his lips captured her nipple. "And I can't wait until we go to your flat, so we are finishing this here."

"Finishing? I think you mean starting."

No more words were exchanged as Ron tugged Pansy further beneath him, arranging one leg over his shoulder and the other over his arm. He lined himself up and slowly sank his way inside Pansy's still quivering channel, causing her spine to arch and eyes to roll back.

Unintelligible words escaped Pansy's lips in a long hiss when he was all the way inside, the words turning to gibberish as he grinded against her and hit some elusive spot deep within her body.  
Ron gradually increased his pace until Pansy was able to do little more than grab onto his shoulder with one hand, clinging for dear life onto the sofa with the other. She was going to lose her head again, that much was certain. The only mystery remained as to how many times that would be; more than a few, judging by the mounting tension in her belly that came from every one of Ron's perfectly aimed thrusts. For each lunge of her boyfriend's hips, Pansy returned with a keen that steadily increased in pitch, rising so loudly her throat began to ache. That mild bit of discomfort was ignored as Ron sent her higher and higher, lustily fucking her through each orgasm.

"How are you still hard?" she demanded ten minutes later when Ron withdrew from her, shifting them both to the floor and lying on his back, lazily fisting his glistening erection.

"Shut up and ride me," was his short reply, grabbing Pansy around the waist with his other arm and tugging her to straddle him.

The flickering hearth light reached in their direction, highlighting Ron's firm chest which was covered in a thin mat of reddish hair and sweat. Woman on top was a position that Pansy usually hated, but she was so turned on that she was willing to do anything. It only took a second of rocking back and forth against her boyfriend before learning the benefits of taking the lead. Whenever she pushed down, the head of his cock nudged the back of her walls in a way that made her breath catch. When she moved up, some sensitive patch just beneath the edge of her opening was stimulated in a way that caused a squeaky moan to escape her throat.

Ron swore under his breath, wrapping his long arms around his girlfriend's waist, guiding her to repeat the exact same motion at the exact same angle. Pansy wanted to be embarrassed when Ron actually fucked out more of her nonsensical sounds, but the sensation of needing to come again made her momentarily forget about her shame.

It no longer mattered that she and her boyfriend were screwing like animals in heat on the floor of her oldest friend's parents' house. The only thing Pansy cared about was Ron's cock staying on the spot she needed most, each stroke rearranging her head until she forgot her name, just as he had promised.

All manner of profanities came to mind as Pansy rode the wizard hard and fast. Ron manoeuvred a hand between them to direct a nipple into his mouth, drawing on it firmly while rolling his hips to thrust shallowly and steadily. Pansy couldn't believe it; she was actually fucking mewling like one of those insipid character's in her mum's dirty books, but there she was: hair damp and sticking to the side of her neck, crying out like some virgin having her true first taste of passion, all the while clutching both arms around Ron's head as he fucked her into another eruption which flooded his stomach with multiple flashes of hot liquid.  
The tremors running throughout Pansy's body were still in full effect when Ron tipped her onto her back and pushed both knees into her chest. This position was absolute sweet agony when he shoved his way into her, using the full force of his weight to meter each thrust. The smooth head of Ron's knob jabbed away at her g-spot, and each time Pansy approached climax, he pulled out and slapped his cock against her clit, earning a guttural shriek and a spray of clear fluid that shot high as his shoulder.

Pansy had long traversed past the point of coherency. Her heart hammered against her chest, and the carpet fibres beneath her back and bum were definitely wearing away skin, but quickly that was forgotten about when Ron drew her ankles up next to his ears and slid back into her. His movements were considerably slower this time, yet no less effective, and Pansy went rigid all over, her fingers digging into Ron's thighs and forgetting to breathe as he brought her to fever pitch for the last time. Seconds later his resolve shattered and Ron collapsed atop his girlfriend, groaning into her neck and thrusting unevenly until his cock stopped twitching.  
'  
"Bloody hell," Ron exhaled as the two lie on the floor, sticking to one another but too lazy to move. "Think Malfoy's going to demand our heads once he sees this room?"

Pansy gave a tired laugh and idly stroked Ron's damp back.

"Probably, but who cares. Sod Draco."

"I knew there was a reason I you were my girlfriend."

Pansy giggled tiredly, shaking her head.

"Ron?"

"Hmm?"

"You're bloody heavy!"

"What? Oh, sorry." He shifted to Pansy's side and wrapped an arm around her as her head lolled onto his shoulder. "Reckon we should get dressed and go home?"

"I suppose, but the only way I'm moving is if you either carry me or Apparate me. And I refuse to put that horrid dress back on."

Ron snorted, pressing his lips to Pansy's for a short kiss before heaving a sigh while pushing himself up.

"Not that I can't carry you, seeing as you're so short, but I think Apparition is best if you plan on staying naked."

Pansy strained her neck to look around, and upon finding a fallen throw pillow, threw it in Ron's direction.

"What!" he yelped, sidestepping and stumbling a bit, "you know it's true!"

"Stop taking the piss out of me and help me fix the room," Pansy told him, grinning widely.

"Nah, I've got it," Ron replied, walking over to their pile of clothing and rooting through it until he found his shirt. He then draped it around Pansy's shoulders and helped her into it, stooping down to fasten a few buttons, kissing her forehead when he was done.

 _Prat,_ Pansy silently mused, although there was no ire to her thoughts. Her other boyfriends hadn't kissed her forehead after sex, and the girly part of her felt secretly pleased by the gesture. It was hard to not smile like an idiot as she watched Ron moving about, dressed in his boxers and top hat while using his wand to put things back into place. 

"That's the best I can do," he announced when we was finished. Their costumes were bunched in the crook of his arm, the largest item being the hoop skirt of her costume, and both their shoes dangled from Ron's fingertips. "Ready?"

Pansy took his free outstretched hand, groaning as he pulled her up from the floor.

"My arse is numb, I think," she murmured, gingerly rubbing her behind. "For all this posh furniture you'd think they would have a softer carpet."

"Yeah, well, my bed is softer than the floor and if you're nice to me, I'll bring you breakfast in it tomorrow morning."

"Shagged senseless and given breakfast in bed? I'd be daft to turn that down. But I think we should just sleep tonight, don't know if I can take more of that battering ram for another few hours."

She was able to see her boyfriend's chest swell with pride, and Pansy slapped Ron in the back of his head.

"Oi! What's that for?"

"You know very well what for. Calm down."

"I'm telling Mrs. Parkinson on you."

"Sure, right about with the fact that you've utterly debauched her daughter on the floor in some room of the Malfoys' home. I'd love to hear that conversation."

The tips of Ron's ears turned bright red, and Pansy pressed her lips together to keep from smirking.

"Don't worry about it," she added smoothly. "Just give me a few hours to rest, and I'll make sure you leave you utterly debauched as well."

Ron paused for a moment, looking thoroughly intrigued. He then uttered a "Hang on tight", waiting for Pansy to grab his arm before Apparating them out of Malfoy Manor.


End file.
